


Marigold Fever

by TalesOfOnyxBats



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hanahaki Disease, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-03-01 07:45:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18796009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalesOfOnyxBats/pseuds/TalesOfOnyxBats
Summary: Azula, in love with Sokka finds herself coughing up flower petals.





	1. Gold

Petals flowed from her lips, vivid red like blood or the silk of her robes and sometimes with touches of marigold. It is almost beautiful in a haunting and dismal sort of way. Maybe if it were happening to someone else it would be morbidly aesthetic. Azula finds herself choking again, the petals it isn’t painful--more or less it is uncomfortable. At times it tastes strangely pleasant, but mostly it leaves an odd earthy taste in her mouth. She plucks the petals from her mouth and sets them aflame. 

At least she has one advantage, she can get rid of the evidence of her otherworldly affliction. She can keep her problems to herself. Still she is frustrated with her predicament. Other than the steady stream of petals she can hide her feelings so well. 

 

She thinks that it must be some sort of vengeance from the spirit world. Some twisted punishment for being so secretive and guarding. But is it really anyone’s business who she loves.

 

Is it even his business? 

 

He has the Kyoshi girl anyhow. Some confession, sappy or not, would only be a bother to the man. 

Azula is frustrated with herself and embarrassed all over again to know that it is Sokka in particular, of all people, that she has fallen for. The man is barely a man, more so some blundering hog-monkey than anything else. Yet her heart has taken a shine to the oaf. 

 

She wanders down the hall for supper, hoping that the dining room will be empty this time. The thought of breaking into a coughing fit of flora is heavily unappealing. It isn’t empty when she arrives. But she has put off eating for too long, there is a dull ache in her belly and she can’t go another day without eating anything at all. Trying to make herself as inconspicuous as she can, Azula finds her seat. But she is noticed immediately, it isn’t a surprise being as her presence has become such a rarity these days. 

 

She ignores the stares and tries to finish her meal quickly. But not at a pace her father would scold her for should he have been there. She listened to them chatter amid themselves. TyLee prattles on and on about how good being a Kyoshi warrior is doing her and Mai isn’t even pretending to be interested. Aang on the other hand is fully invested in the tale. Katara and Zuko speak of politics with an occasional jesting remark from Toph. She hears Suki speaking and actively tries to block out the sound of Sokka’s reply.

But it meets her ears anyhow and triggers a bought of coughs. At first they are flora free, they are still enough to earn her all eyes. 

 

“Are you alright, Azula?” Zuko asks. 

 

Azula nods but the fit doesn’t pass. She can feel them now, forming in her throat. She had already been covering her mouth, now she has it covered with both hands. The first few petals seep into her fingers. She moves one hand and snatches a napkin, holding it to her mouth as the fit grows more forceful. Involuntary tears spring to her eyes, it is hard to breathe. She doesn’t know how much more the napkin can hide so she dismisses herself without a word, hoping that they will attribute her departure to a more standard illness. 

 

She can hear them talking as she departs; hushed voices asking Zuko if her illness is serious. 

 

**.oOo.**

 

It had been a mistake to try to join them all for dinner and she doesn’t risk another trip to the dining hall for a while. Mostly she eats late at night or early in the morning when there are few souls up and about, much less Sokka. 

 

But she is growing lonely. She likes to think that, prior to contracting hanahaki, she had been doing a good job of being a more approachable person. She doesn’t understand why she is being punished now. Doesn’t understand why the universe is making it hard for her to rebuild stable relationships. 

Whatever the reason, she finally caves to her craving for social interaction. She makes her way towards the chattering voices in hopes of the best. Mai, Zuko, and TyLee are the only ones present and it is a relief to Azula. Maybe without Sokka around, she can get through a conversation.

 

She seats herself without a greeting. They don’t notice her at first. 

 

“Oh! Azula! When did you get here?” TyLee asks with a smile as cheerful as Azula remembers. 

 

“Just a few minutes ago.” She answers, she finds that her voice is hoarser than she recalls. Has it really been that long since she has spoken to someone?

 

“You don’t sound too good.” Mai comments casually. 

 

“Yes.” Azula agrees. “I haven’t been feeling well lately.” 

 

“Do you need to see the physician?” Zuko offers. 

 

Azula shakes her head. “I’ll manage.” She doesn’t know how but she will. She watches TyLee pluck a flower from the grass and cringes. 

 

TyLee holds it out to her. “Here, it smells nice.”

 

Reflexively, Azula crinkles her nose. “Eh...no thanks, TyLee.” Quickly she adds, “I’m not much of a flower person.” She wishes that were the truth. Almost as feverishly as she wishes that her heart would have tied itself to TyLee instead. It would have been much easier, somehow less awkward. She feels bad for thinking of TyLee as a means to cure a disease, even if it had only been a passing thought. 

 

“Alright, I’ll just give it to Mai.”

 

“Flowers are gross.” Mai grumbles. It takes all of Azula’s willpower to not mutter something akin to, ‘you’re telling me.’ 

 

“Zuko?” TyLee offers. He rolls his eyes and tucks the flower behind his ear. 

 

“Well, how do I look?” He asks.

 

“You look exactly like how you run our country.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

Azula shrugs, “delicate and fragile.” 

 

“It’s nice to see you again, Azula.” 

 

She gives a smug smile. “Yes, I know. Who else will remind you that you’re a wimp?”

 

“Toph, occasionally.” Zuko notes. 

 

“I’ll have to thank her for filling in for me.” She says it with a jesting smirk but a sorrow tickles her belly. She wishes that she can talk like this regularly. Hell, she wishes that she can stick around for the rest of this conversation. But her throat is beginning to prickle and she knows that she is overdue for a burst of petals. She looks at her palms and coughs once. She supposes that she should announce her departure before she can’t. She coughs again. “I am going to get myself a glass of water.” 

 

“Sounds like you need it.” Mai agrees. 

 

With a parting and agreeing nod, Azula stands. She is angry all over again that she has to cut the conversation short. It was going so well...she sighs. Only when she makes it to the quiet solitude of her room does she let herself succumb to the coughing. It is worse this time and her sides and throat ache from the ferocity of the fit. Her floor is a mess of wet petals. 

She thinks that she can see speckles of blood.

She doesn’t know if it is from her throat being so raw or from the flowers themselves; perhaps the roses have grown thorns. 

 

Azula curls herself on the ground, shaking at the thought. 

She doesn’t want to know what is going on inside her throat. 

Can she die from this?

 

She supposes that if love could kill anyone, it would take her out first. 

 

**.oOo.**

 

She has only emerged from her room twice after that within a two week span, she resorts to using the bathroom that is conjoined with her room and having her meals delivered. She only speaks when someone knocks at her door and she is quick to push them out.

 

Azula doesn’t think that she is being unpleasant but has a feeling, all the same, that people are viewing her as cold and standoffish. They are beginning to visit her less. She chews the inside of her cheek. She doesn’t want to lose the delicate friendships she has formed and reformed.

She slips from her room once more. She can already feel the petals tingling in the back of her throat, threatening to spill themselves out at any moment.

 

When she emerges into the dining room, she finds it empty. The entry and living rooms are empty as well. So she checks the garden, only finding two people. “Where is everyone?” 

 

“Aang wanted to take Zuko to some shop he discovered.” TyLee says. “I’ve already been there so I stayed behind.”

 

Azula’s stomach lurches as she addresses Sokka, “and you?” 

 

“That shop is for kids.” Sokka replies. “I am a man.”

 

Azula gives a sarcastic sniff. “You think that you’re a man.” She is doing herself no favors in pushing the man away. His affection is rather critical to her health.

 

“What brings you out of your room?” Sokka asks.

 

With every word, the petals and vines in her throat seem to shift. “I needed some fresh air and conversation.”

 

“I thought that you didn’t like people.” 

 

“She likes people!” TyLee declares. 

 

“In moderation.” Azula half-lies. 

 

“So, what, after ten minutes of talking you retreat to your room for a week to recover?” 

 

Azula blinks at the sheer audacity of the man. All the same, she has to admire his bold brazenness. “I might need more than that to recuperate from you.”

 

Sokka laughs. “Glad I can drive you that crazy!” He slings his arm over her shoulder and around her neck. It is more than enough, she doubles over almost immediately. She barely hears TyLee shout her name. 

 

This round of coughs is much more violent. She can hardly breath and she thinks that she may choke. So she really can die from love. What a truly wild notion. Her body seems to fold in on itself on its own accord. Petals are weeping from her mouth and she can’t even hope to conceal them. The sheer amount is overbearing. 

 

The grass beneath her is a mess of rose and marigold by the time her fit passes. She is breathless, her eyes watery. She feels so weak and drained, she doesn’t even try to pick herself up. She doesn’t know who is rubbing her back. She thinks that it is TyLee. TyLee has rubbed her back like that before. She finds herself being lifted up. Sokka nuzzles her into his arms. He pets her hair. She appreciates the thought but, Agni is she scared, he is going to trigger another round. 

 

TyLee observes the scatter of petals. The same petals Sokka is quizzically staring at. Azula swallows. 

 

“What the hell was that?” Sokka finally asks. 

 

“Oh, Azula.” TyLee clasps her hands together a look of sympathy splaying itself on her face. And then she gives a soft chuckle. “You would get yourself a case of hanasaki.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Azula mutters, her voice twice as raspy. 

 

“You’re always bottling things up.” She gives Azula an affectionate boop that the princess makes a point of ignoring. “This is why you can’t do that.” 

 

“What’s a hanahaki?” Sokka asks. 

 

“Uncultured peasant.” Azula folds her arms and fixes him with a half-pout. Not that she isn’t thankful for his cluelessness. She can’t imagine that it will uphold with TyLee around. 

 

“It’s romantic, Sokka!” TyLee gushes. At this, Azula scoffs. “But it’s also really tragic. If a person falls in love--and it has to be real, true love!--and it isn’t required then they start coughing up flower petals. The disease can only be cured by the person returning their affections.” 

 

Azula feels her cheeks flaring. 

 

“That’s adorable, Azula.”

 

Azula’s face grows reader and her frown deepens. “It won’t be so adorable when I toss you into the turtleduck pond.” Perhaps she can make herself hate him. But she doesn’t, she can’t.

Somehow is infuriating teasing is also endearing. “Why can’t I just cough up fire or something befitting of me.”

 

“That’s not how hanahaki works!” TyLee exclaims. “It wouldn’t be romantic.” 

 

“I hate romance.” Azula mutters.

 

“Apparently, that’s not true.” Sokka remarks.

 

“I can be in love, but I don’t have to like it.” She says more to herself than anyone.

 

“So who is it?” Sokka asks. 

 

The question takes her by surprise. “That’s none of your business.”  

 

“Is it mine?” TyLee asks hopefully.

 

“No!” Azula snaps reflexively. “Maybe. But only if you can keep your mouth shut about it.”

 

This gives Sokka a devilish idea. “I won’t tell the rest of the gang if you tell me who is responsible for your hanasaki.” 

 

“Hanahaki.” Azula corrects. “If I tell you, will you kick his ass for me?”

 

Sokka thinks for a moment before agreeing. It is another nice sentiment, but she keeps her lips sealed. He has put her in an uncomfortable position. Either he is going to find out about her girlish crush or everyone else will find out that she has one. She doesn’t know which evil is worse.  

 

She wonders if setting him on fire would end her affliction or end her life. She folds her arms over her chest and holds her silence. Her eyes fall upon the heap of petals, they flutter about between grass blades. “Fine. Tell them, they’re probably going to find out sooner or later.”

 

She must have sounded pretty dismal because his voice loses all jest, “I’m won’t tell them.” He pauses. “But I think that you should tell...whoever it is. That,” he motions to the indent that her body left in the grass, “looked kind of painful.” 

 

“It is…” She trails off. 

 

“I’m sure whoever it is will return your feelings.” He pauses for a moment and his own cheeks seem to grow redder, he goes through with what he wants to say regardless. “You’re really pretty and one of the smartest people I know.” And then the jesting is back, “you’re kind of a major jerkbender, which I think is a family trait, probably. But I’m sure that person would like you anyways.” 

 

“I doubt it.” Azula mutters.

 

“Why?” TyLee asks. 

 

“They’re taken.”

 

“Oh.” She replies glumly.

 

“But if they weren’t would you tell them?” Sokka asks.

 

“I think...maybe.” Azula replies. She supposes that she would rather be direct. She has a momentum going and for a moment she thinks about telling him anyhow. But before he can he picks a flower petal off of the ground and tucks it into her hair. “Ew, Sokka, that was in my mouth.” 

 

“Yeah, I’m the one who should be saying ew. It’s your slobber not mine.”

 

She truly doesn’t understand her own thinking, she should be completely off put by his foolish remarks, and yet she isn’t. She finds his humor rather comforting, even if it is on the childish side. Still, she doesn’t let on, “do you want to end up in the turtleduck pond?” 

 

Sokka laughs. 

 

“You two are adorable.” TyLee smiles. 

 

He laughs louder. “Yeah, maybe now that Suki left me we can start our epic romance!” He jabs Azula in the ribcage. “What do you think about that, Azula?”

 

She fights to keep the heat out of her cheeks. “It sounds awful.” 


	2. Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People seemed to like this one and so did I, so I'm going to be continuing it. Though it's probably going to be a shorter fic.

She had said that it sounded awful, but Agni be damned if she isn’t relieved. Perhaps she won’t die after all. She twists a petal between her fingers before igniting it. She will go downstairs for dinner. She might as well. Now that TyLee knows, she is certain that everyone will. They probably already do. She pinches the bridge of her nose. If such is the case then they already know that she is harboring some secret affection for someone. The thought is enough to color her cheeks. 

 

She finds herself scratching at her throat but she knows that it is useless. The tickling comes from within. When she can endure it no more, Azula makes her way towards the dining room. She hopes that someone will be there to distract her but doesn’t expect such luck.  

 

She slides herself into her usual chair, Sokka’s head jerks up at the sound of her pulling it out. 

 

“You came down for dinner?” 

 

“I figured that you and TyLee have already told everyone about my…” she pauses. “Condition. So I might as well.” 

 

“I can’t speak for TyLee, but a charming gentleman such as myself would never share a lady’s secret.” He wriggles his eyebrows. 

 

“Oh yes, a real charmer.” Azula grumles, wondering, for a second time that day, why her heart had to go and latch itself on to him. “What are you doing sitting by yourself anyways.

 

“I told you that I wouldn’t!” Sokka misinterprets her tone.

 

Azula rolls her eyes. “I believe you, geeze…” She trails off, wondering if she should keep to her own word. She had told him that she would vocalize her affections. The itching in her throat intensifies. It brings water to her eyes. She waits for him to misinterpret that too. Soon the tickling becomes too much and she seduces her own coughing fit to berid herself of the petals.

 

Sokka’s eyes go wide at the first cough. 

By the second and third, he is at her side, with a glass of water. 

 

She waves her hand, “I don’t…” she coughs again. “Think that, that will…” and another, “help.”  Orange and red petals weep from her lips and onto the table. He puts the glass in her hands anyways and she takes a generous drink from it despite her own words. She can feel the water hitting the vines. She can tell that they have grown and she begins to fear having dinner. It induces another, petal free round of gagging. She feels his hand on her back, mimicking the way TyLee had rubbed it the day prior. 

It begins to make that much more sense. 

 

He is caring. 

He is sympathetic. 

Even to someone who hadn’t been particularly kind on the past. 

 

She is tired, she rests her head in her arms. She rubs the corner of her mouth. He doesn’t intrude on her quiet until there comes the scuffle of feet. “You want to clean those petals?” Mumbling to herself, Azula lifts her head and sets them all aflame. She puts her head back down and with a dismissive wave says, “taken care of.”

 

“Well that’s one way to do it.” He chuckles. 

 

**.oOo.**

 

Another week slides by. She opens each day with a promise that, that one would be the day that she makes her confession. The week is ending and for a seventh time, she makes the same promise. 

 

Azula takes a deep breath and the petals scratch her throat. She closes her eyes and clenches her teeth. She makes her way from her room to the garden, she had told Sokka that she would join him there for breakfast. The walk from her room to the outside leaves her mortifinly breathless. For the time, firebending is out of the question. Even if she finds herself bold enough to give it a try, she won’t be able to do it right, not when breathing is so essential to the art. 

 

Her fear is hiking to a new height. Just walking is enough to agitate the flowers. Soon, just standing around will leave her struggling for air. Still, the notion of making herself emotionally vulnerable is more daunting. 

She has dealt with physical pain and the notion of her own mortality many times before. It is a familiar evil. One that she has come to terms with. The war has left her unafraid of her own death. 

Emotional discomfort is another matter altogether. She supposes that heartbreak is a familiar character after Mai and TyLee. But shame is still a foreign entity that she wants to avoid. 

 

She sits down on the blanket that Sokka has spread out. The man himself is nowhere to be seen, not that she has expected anything different of the man. She lays herself down on her belly, the flowers are less uncomfortable when she is on her stomach. She hasn’t slept on her back in ages. 

 

“Sorry, I had to step away for a moment.” 

 

“Let me guess, you forgot the food?” 

 

His nervous half-laughs are confirmation enough. 

 

Azula sits up. “Really? How do you invite someone to breakfast and forget the food?” 

 

“Anxiousness.” He rubs the back of his head as she sits up to observe him. 

 

“Me? Making someone nervous? I would never.” Though she doesn’t feel all that intimidating having been overpowered by evil flora. 

 

“You’re kind of scary.” 

 

She narrows her eyes, there’s that brashness again. He takes a seat, “cinnamon roll?” She reaches for it but retracts her hand at the thought of the sticky coating fighting with the vines. “I don’t do sweets this early.” 

 

“Of course you don’t.” She hears him mutter to himself. He pulls something else from his picnic basket. “Strawberry?” 

 

This she takes and pops into her mouth. 

 

“Katara and I picked them yesterday.”

 

“No wonder they taste so sour.” 

 

“Matches you’re personality perfectly!”

 

“The turtle duck pond hasn’t moved, Sokka.” She reminds. 

 

He throws his arm over her shoulder again. “We can go for a swim if you want.”

 

“Perhaps.” Azula answers. “I’d like to finish one activity before starting another though.” She stares at the turtle duck pond, an unexpected sense of dreariness overcoming her. He is right in front of her smiling his boyish smiles and making his immature jokes. Right there, open and inviting and she still can’t bring herself to talk. 

 

She wishes that the would inquire about her crush again it would give her the propulsion she needs. But he gives her, her privacy. If only TyLee hasn’t gone back with the Kyoshi Warriors. She would have gotten Azula to open up. She draws her knees up to her chest. 

 

“Are you okay?” Sokka asks. 

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“It’s the flowers, isn’t it?” He guesses. “They’re getting worse, aren’t they?”

 

She gives a solemn nod. 

“You’re going to have to tell whoever it is. Believe it or not, I kind of like you.”

 

The flowers writhe at this and her belly flutters. 

 

“I don’t want you to die or something before we can truly embark on our beautiful journey of friendship.” 

 

“I don’t want to die.” She replies quietly. 

 

He takes her hand, she thinks that it is an absent motion. Some instinctive gesture of comfort that has become second nature to him after years of caring for Katara. “Then tell him, Azula.” 

 

She swallows. 

The petals shift. 


	3. Requited

It is getting worse, Azula can feel the flower unfurling in her throat, threatening to suffocate her.

Suffocate her or worse. She looks in the mirror and can feel nothing but horror. Strangely, it doesn’t hurt. 

It doesn’t hurt but it is still dreadfully terrifying. 

 

The base of her throat is swollen, she can see the faint impression of the vines beneath her delicate skin. She brings her fingers to it, brushing them over the faint lumps. She wonders what will take her first. Will the blossoms deprive her of her air flow or will she live long enough for the vines to grow and burst from her throat? Suddenly suffocation doesn’t sound so terrible.

 

She pulls her hair up into a top knot and steps back from the mirror. She wonders at once if she should leave her hair down in some attempt to obscure the grotesque bumps. Dwelling further upon it, she decides ultimately that, yes, she should. She lets her hair down before leaving her room.

 

The vines have been more active these days, they flutter and writh and churn. On many nights she thought of picking up her crown and driving the pointy end of it into her neck in some desperate attempt to get them to stop moving. Such a desire overtakes her again as she walks down the hall. Azula supposes that it is a good thing that she has left her crown in her room. The itching and scratching of the vines will surely drive her to attempt to cut them from her throat. 

 

**.oOo.**

 

Sokka doesn’t notice the princess right away. She is quiet as she enters the throne room where he and Zuko sit, side by side, conversing. Their catter is of the dreary sort and it falls short at Azula’s entry. Naturally so, being as she is the subject matter. Nothing offensive nor scathing. But Azula has expressed time and time again that she hates being fussed over. Zuko’s concern will probably agitate her more than anything else. Sokka wonders how much will power it takes for his friend to remain composed at the sight of his sister looking so weary.

 

She is some thinner, having difficulty swallowing solid foods. Her eyes are tired, Sokka can’t imagine that it is easy to sleep with something growing in her throat. Her skin and hair still have a lively pigment though. It is what keeps Sokka reassured and probably Zuko too. 

 

“Good morning, Azula.” Zuko greets with a sheepish smile. 

 

She nods, “Zuzu.” Her voices is horse and Sokka doesn’t blame her for the half-hearted greeting. 

 

She comes to sit between the pair. Her hair ripples down her back and over her shoulders. But it isn’t quite enough to cover something that churns Sokka’s belly. The fire shifts and casts Azula in a different light. One that shows the swelling on her throat. 

 

“Azula…?” Zuko mutters. 

 

She turns to him and he motions to her throat. 

 

“I know…” She trails off. The timbre of her voice is muffled and distorted, something that is very slightly inhuman sounding.                                                                               

 

“You really hate talking about feelings don’t you?” Sokka remarks. 

 

Azula nods, “very much.”

 

He watches her dangle her feet over the ledge of the platform that the thrones sit upon.

 

“What is he like?” Zuko asks.

 

The question seems to take her aback. “He’s an idiot.” 

 

“That can be anyone.” Zuko rolls his eyes. “You think that everyone is an idiot.” 

 

“Yes.” Azula agrees. “But him especially.” 

 

“What nation is he from?” Sokka tries. 

 

“The nimrod nation.” She mutters. She looks at her palms. She only does so for a moment before seeming to fold in on herself in a fit of coughs. Sokka watches splashes of red and orange-gold drift to the floor of the throne room.

 

Once the fit has passed Azula curls herself up on her side and a few remaining petals slide from her mouth. Sokka takes her hand and gives it a few careful strokes. She looks up at him, seeming to have lost even more of the fire in her eyes. He tries to give her a comforting smile before hoisting her up. For once she doesn’t protest help. He props her up and against himself. “You alright?”

 

“I’ll be…” she tires to say. He can hear it, the sound of a petal getting caught. She is coughing all over again, this time more violently. He wishes that he could do more for her. He has been growing rather fond of her, despite the occasional off-handed remarks she is prone to making. 

 

“Want me to get you a glass of water?” Zuko offers feebly. 

 

She shakes her head. “I can get it myself.” She heaves herself out of his arms, somehow looking more delicate than when she had first entered.  He wants to stop her, but he feels as though she won’t take well to it.

 

**.oOo.**

 

Azula decides that she will spare Zuko the sight. Spare everyone the sight. 

 

She is dizzy and faint and starved for air. Most of it anyhow. She can still force a few breaths, but it is growing remarkably hard and is beginning to require actually thinking on her end. She at least has to make it to her room.

 

But she doesn’t. 

Using the wall to hold herself upright, she slowly makes her way towards the stairs. She doesn’t make it very far at all before slipping to the ground. She is too light-headed to pull herself back to her feet. Too weak. 

 

They don’t sound right, the breaths she does take in. She can hear the sound of the petals fluttering in her throat. She tries inducing another round of choking, perhaps she can move the vines. But they are closing in, sealing her air passage. 

 

When she does manage to cough, it makes things worse. The petals are coming up before she can expel them. Her body trembles and she finds herself squirming and kicking mindlessly at the ground as she drowns from within. 

She doesn’t want to die. 

Not like this.    
Not from something she could have prevented. 

 

**.oOo.**

 

Azula hasn’t come back yet. It has only been a few minutes, but it only takes a few minutes to fetch a drink and walk back. Sokka looks and Zuko, “I’ll go check on her.” 

 

Zuko nods, looking rather grim faced. As though he is reading himself for bad news. Perhaps he has already noted Azula’s need to keep herself walled up. Perhaps he has been preparing himself to lose her this whole time. 

 

And it sets in, that even if she does fess up to whoever it is, mutual affection is crucial. From the look and sound of it, she doesn’t have time to win anyone over. He cuts his own thoughts short when he sees Azula lying on the floor. 

 

She is clawing at her own throat. He can see bloody scratches running the length of it. Come closer he notices that her eyes are streaked with tears. He picks up her withering body. He can’t really do anything for her. His mind is fogging and he finds himself gentle patting her cheek as if to rouse her from sleep. “You can’t leave yet, you have a lot of friends now.” He curls his fingers around her hand. A hand that is growing limper and limper. 

 

Holding her, he realize that it will kill a part of him to lose her. He is just getting to know her but he already can’t imagine not having a weekly picnic with she and TyLee. Can’t imagine missing his weekly dose of, “I’m going to toss you into the turtleduck pond.” 

 

“Don’t go.” He whispers to her. Probably on instinct alone, Azula clutches his hand tightly. He presses a soft kiss to her forehead. A parting kiss. She seems to go still. He doesn’t notice Zuko standing on the other side of the room. 

 

He hugs Azula’s slack body to himself. She feels so small in his arms. 

She isn’t supposed to be small. 

How can someone with such a big personality feel so small?

 

A sense of calm overcomes him. 

He can’t place it at first. 

Not until he takes notice of her breaths on his neck, they seem to be coming easier to her. 

 

The weight of it doesn’t register. At the moment, it doesn’t matter to Sokka. He peers over at Zuko, “she’s still alive.”   


	4. Beginning

She sleeps for a long while and Sokka is hesitant to leave her. At the very least, her sleep look peaceful. She lays on her back, clutching lightly at the sheets in her sleep. Every now and again she utters a soft cough. He watches her roll onto her side before Zuko beckons him out of the room. 

 

“She probably won’t appreciate waking up and seeing someone staring at her.” Zuko comments upon re-entering the hallway. 

 

Sokka imagines a fistful of fire in his face and nods, “yeah, you’re probably right.” He decides to wander off to his own room. He has to admit that he is still rattled from almost having someone die in his arms. Someone who he is growing fond of at that. 

 

He lays upon his own bed, one arm behind his head and the draped over his middle and stares at the ceiling.  It had been too close a call for him to rest easy. And there is something else. Something he can’t place that bothers him. 

Though he isn’t sure that bother is the right word. 

 

He tries to put it out of his mind and think of something more pleasant. Evidently his mind doesn’t leave the slumbering princess. Azula isn’t exactly the sort of person who he’d have thought that he’d find pleasant. Yet, he has grown comforted by her presence and her snide remarks, accompanied by chipper comments from TyLee. Before her health had taken a sharper decline, Azula almost seemed to be in good spirits.  

Perhaps it is bizarre given the circumstances, but it had been nice to hold her so close. 

 

He hopes that she will recover soon. 

 

**.oOo.**

 

She doesn’t know what time it is but she does know that it had been early morning when she’d…

 

Her head is fuzzy and her thinking is still jumbled. Light streams over her face, it is warm and consoling. A tingle prickles in her belly at the thought that she might be dead. Didn’t they say something about light and warmth in dying. She writes that off relatively quickly. She can’t imagine that she’d be seeing the light side of the spirit world, in passing. 

 

She sits up and tries to rid some of the haze in her head. For a moment she holds her position with her head dipping and her eyelids drooping. She thinks that she may fall asleep again. 

She must have briefly nodded off because her head is against the pillow once more and the sun is hanging lower in the sky. The rays it casts on her floor have shifted some. 

 

This time, Azula forces herself out of bed. She still feels light-headed and the room sways some. She puts her weight against the wall and waits for the spell to pass. She utters a few coughs, a residual lingering irritation in her throat. 

It takes her another cough and a moment to realize that the petals had either withered and shrunken or retracted and disappeared altogether.

 

She doesn’t feel like wandering back across the room to check the mirror, but she brings her fingers to her neck. It is smooth. Still somewhat swollen, but free of the bulging impression of the vines. 

 

She isn’t one for crippling emotions but it is a fight to keep herself from collapsing in sheer relief. Azula wanders into the hallway with the last of the fog in her brain clearing. It has cleared enough for her to put two and two together and her stomach lurches. 

 

She had anticipated a slow and agonizing death. 

She had made plans for that. 

She hasn’t made any regarding what she would do if her love were to be reciprocated.   

 

. **oOo** .

 

Sokka frowns, his drawing is not going how he wants it to. His lion-turtle looks more like Appa, but if Appa was having really bad fur day. His skin prickles, at first he can’t place why. He looks up and jolts, nearly toppling his chair.

 

Azula stands in the doorway, still in her night robe--he supposes that, at this late in the evening, there is no point in her changing out of it. She regards him with languid gold eyes. He doesn’t know what she is doing here but he doesn’t intend on shooing her away. 

 

“What are you drawing?” He can hear the strain in her voice.

 

Before remembering that he is not satisfied with his art, he pridefully holds up his masterpiece and declares, “it’s a lion-turtle.”

 

“I hate it.” Azula comments dryly and with all of the social elegance he expects of her. 

 

“Actually, me too.” He admits rubbing the back of his head. 

 

“Can I set it on fire?” She holds her hand out. 

 

Sokka holds it protectively to his chest. “No!”

 

She laughs, but this only irritates her throat and she is hunched over coughing. The fit passes. It must have depleted what little energy she had left, because the firebender sits herself on the floor.

 

“Here.” Sokka gets up. He helps her into the chair.  “How are you feeling?”

 

“I suppose, fine...for having almost died.” She flips the lion-turtle drawing over with a matter-of-fact, “his intense stare was creeping me out. Seriously, can I burn that monstrosity?” 

 

“Kozu didn’t do anything to you.” 

 

Azula crinkles her nose. “Did you really name that thing after my brother?” 

 

He realizes that she has just changed the subject.

 

“Any more petals?” 

 

Azula shakes her head. 

 

Perhaps he is absently putting the pieces together because it dawns on him that he is probably the first person she visited after waking. And she is in his room, she has sought him out in particular. She has her head down, face buried in her arms. 

 

If the petals are gone then that means…

Does he really love her? 

He peers at her, meeting her gaze when she turns her head up. 

He thinks that he does. 

 

**.oOo.**

 

Azula supposes that she has her victory.

The flowers are gone and she hasn’t had to utter a word of confession. 

 

She is under the impression that Sokka will coax a vocalization out of her anyways. Likely after she has recovered. That is if he can put two and two together. She believes that he already has, he is giving her the stupid lopsided grin. 

 

“Stop that.” She murmurs.

 

“You  _ like  _ me don’t you?”  

 

Foolish of her to assume that he would wait. “Less and less every time you speak.”

 

He wasn’t supposed to smile more. But he does. He isn’t making things any less awkward for her. She longs to avert her gaze, but she holds it. He loses the shit-eating grin and pulls up a chair for himself. “Why didn’t you say something?” 

 

Azula shrugs. 

 

“You said that you would if he was single. I have a whole folder of heartbreak art to prove it.” 

 

Azula shrugs a second time. “Didn’t want to make things weird.”

 

Sokka blinks. “Spontaneously dying in the middle of the floor kind of makes any situation weird.” 

 

“Yes, well, I’d be dead so I wouldn’t have to deal with any of the awkwardness.” 

 

He laughs. “You’re incredible.” She can’t tell if he means so endearingly or incredulously or some hybrid of the two. 

 

“Yes.” She agrees. Truth be told she also didn’t fancy the idea of rejection. Not after having received it from her father and at one point her uncle, mother, and ex-friends. It still clings to her even with most relationships decently patched up. 

But he hasn’t rejected her. She feels her neck again. The vines would still twitch there if he had. Still, she has no idea what to do with that. 

 

He sighs, “you really aren’t good at this romance thing, are you?” 

 

She shakes her head.

 

“Well good thing that you have found yourself a professional.”

 

“Zuko told me that he walked in on you with a rose in your mouth and…”

 

Sokka’s face grows red. “Well that makes two of us!”

 

She blinks twice. He isn’t wrong. “I didn’t put mine there.” Technically she had though, in some sense. 

 

He knows it too. He stops laughing again. “It’s not as hard as you think.” He flashes her a reassuring grin. 

 

“You’ll find that I’m not the cuddly, clingy sort.”

 

“That’s the beauty of love!” Sokka sweeps his arms out in a grand arc. “You don’t have to be. For some reason, I like...I love you anyways. I’m kind of tired of clingy anyways. Suki is great, but sometimes a man needs his man time.”

 

“As long as I never find out exactly what that entails, have at it.” She comments with a wave of her hand. She puts her head back against the table, feeling drowsy all over again.

 

“Besides,” Sokka continues, “I think that this is rather romantic don’t you think.” 

 

She cocks her head.

 

“Stumbling upon a heartbroken man doing art.”

 

Azula rolls her eyes. At this he grows serious again. “What I mean is, I don’t need you to be a Suki. I don’t need you to be fluffy or cuddly. I think that I’d probably hate that actually, it would be a little creepy. I just need you to be…”

 

“Alive?” Azula fills in.

 

“That too.” Sokka chuckles. “I just need you to be Azula. Just do what you usually do. I fell in love with that, so...uh...keep doing it I guess.” 

 

She hides her face in her arms, under the guise of not feeling well. At least the fading disease has given her a subtle means of hiding an absurdly flushed face. She can’t recall a time when anyone has said something like that to her. 

 

“Do you want to go back to your room?” He asks. “Your bed is probably more comfy than this desk.” 

 

Azula picks her head back up and then stands up, simultaneously pushing her chair out. She motions for him to follow. 

 

“Do you want me to get you something to eat or drink? You missed lunch.” 

 

Azula nods. “Let Zuzu know that he’s not safe from me yet. I’m still going to kick his ass at kuai ball this summer.” 

 

“I’ll deliver the message.” Sokka promises once they reach her bedroom. He leaves her in the doorway with a parting kiss. She brings her fingers to her lips. She supposes that she hadn’t entirely hated it.

No, she rather liked it.


End file.
